


Dream Sex Ficlet

by lucifers_left_earlobe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-22
Updated: 2013-11-22
Packaged: 2018-01-02 09:24:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1055130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucifers_left_earlobe/pseuds/lucifers_left_earlobe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Request for Cas sneaking into Dean's dreams. This is mostly smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dream Sex Ficlet

The first time Castiel visits Dean in a dream, he’s dreaming of movies.

A bucket of popcorn rests in his arms, going unnoticed as Dean focuses onto the old fashioned black and white film, eyes homing in on the dancing blonde woman with an interest Castiel didn’t think Dean had in these sorts of affairs. His legs are crossed as he sits on the hood of the Impala, alone and content with the illusionary dreamscape.

Castiel lets his feet carry him to his friend, bored with simply observing his behavior. When he settles himself beside Dean, he’s met with a slight guffaw, Dean’s eyes opening wide with some unknown shock.

“Hey, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean shovels a handful of popcorn into his mouth, his eyes slowly focusing back onto the screen as he shoots Castiel a series of questioning glances. His hands twitch every so often, possibly questioning why he’s not alone. After a moment of awkward fidgeting, he sets the bucket onto the ground and turns back to the angel.

“Am I dreaming?” he asks. One of his brows quirks up with the question, as though there is nothing more confusing to Dean than the possibility of dreaming of his friend. Castiel almost chuckles at the thought that Dean dreams of him often, because he knows it isn’t true.

“Yes,” Castiel replies, keeping his tone as neutral as possible.

Dean pauses, his hands clenching and loosening over his knees in an almost rhythmic pentameter. After a few more clenches, his eyes slide back onto Castiel. “So you’re not real?”

Castiel nods, too wary of his incapacity at voicing his lies. In truth, he’s as real as Dean’s hidden fantasies, as real as his subtle admissions. In truth, he’s a wavelength sidestepping the need for a definite reality. In truth, he’s not meant to be here.

“So, uh, you’re a figment of my imagination then?” Dean scoots closer to him, his fingers just wisping over the crisp fabric of Castiel’s trench coat. Castiel nods again, averting his eyes from the righteous man to focus on the screen, which has stopped playing the film and is slowly dimming to a dull black.

“Then we can… make out?”

Castiel’s spine stiffens, his fingers spilling the small handful of popcorn he was slowly eating. Carefully, he nods once more, keeping his eyes firmly fixed upon his lap.

A strong hand enters Castiel’s vision, obstructing his view of one of his knees as Dean pulls him close to his body. Another hand lands on Castiel’s jaw and tilts his head downwards, directly into the focus of the softly thrumming soul of the elder Winchester.

“Well it’s my dream, so let’s make out.” Dean’s smile is the last thing Castiel sees before firm lips are pressed against his, coaxing them open with a languid swirl of tongue. He lets his lips split, relishing in the smooth slide of tongue against tongue, of the friction of Dean’s skilled fingers in his scalp.

Smooth hands slide from Castiel’s knee and hair to his hips, maneuvering him into Dean’s lap with gentleness he’s never seen in the man. Soft fingers tease under his hemline, pushing his trench coat over his shoulders and going to work on the buttons of the crisp white shirt his vessel adorns.

Sloppy pecks transform into desperate, passionate kisses, Dean’s hands tugging off Castiel’s shirt and jacket as he adjusts the angle of his neck, lips moving with more haste and more tenderness.

Hands snake down his bare torso, dipping to hover over his belt. For a moment, Dean’s lips seize in their movement, hesitant to proceed with his ‘dream’. But after a moment’s deliberation that hand undoes his belt with a simple flick of his wrist, sliding under the stiff white boxers to cup his vessel’s hardness.

And it feels so _good_.

His body thrusts into Dean’s hand, unintentionally, and Dean’s lips break away with a sly grin. “Did you like that, Cas?” Dean purrs, eyes seductively darkening to a near black, hand teasing at the spot just above Castiel’s balls.

Castiel nods, his lips leaving a thin line of drool as his head bobs against Dean’s cheek. A warm chuckle erupts from Dean’s lungs, reverberating through Castiel’s body and his hand resumes its motion. The slide is _fantastic_ ; Castiel doesn’t know how he ever considered human sex to be so mundane. It was the opposite.

After giving Castiel’s member a few tugs, he retracts his hand with a smile. “Let’s go in the car.” Castiel nods, shoving himself off the hood of the Impala and nearly sprinting to the back door, tearing it open as he dives in. Dean quickly follows suit, but not before removing his button up and worn jeans. Castiel slides his trousers down his legs, letting them pool near his feet and lays himself out on the leather bench, arms held wide and at the ready for his hunter.

Dean slides over him, his chest pressing against Castiel’s in agonizing sweetness, their stiffened members slotting together in perfect unison. Castiel notes that his vessel’s erection, though thinner than Dean’s, is slightly longer and he briefly wonders why that is before Dean _moves._

His entire body radiates sensation, hips jutting against Dean’s as a wild grunt breaks free of his lungs. Dean’s eyes flare open at the sound, his lips parting in a breathless exhale and he does it _again._ And again. And again.

Dean’s hands eventually come to rest on either side of his head, propping himself up as his hips continue on their ruthless plumage of rutting against Castiel, bringing them both closer and closer to the orgasm Castiel has only heard tales about. He wonders how his will be; whether he will ‘come’ or ‘shoot out’ or whatever it is humans call it. But the thought is stolen from his mind as Dean does just that.

Beads of sweat drip onto Castiel’s nose as Dean presses their foreheads together, grinding his cock down onto his own as he spews little sticky droplets of semen across Castiel’s belly, grunting as the thrusts grow more and more shallow. His eyes are squeezed shut as he moans Castiel’s name, his mouth pressing sloppy, open mouthed kisses to the corner of Castiel’s mouth.

So that’s what Dean looks like moaning out his name. So that’s what it looks like to climax.

Castiel glances to his reddened cock, marveling at the awareness of his body. Dean’s motion has stopped altogether, his body slowing to a heaving, weighted lump of uncoiled muscle and nerves. Neglecting his dangerously close to bursting erection, Castiel wraps his arms around his best friend, holding him as his heart rate slows and his breathing normalizes. After a few comfortable moments, Dean’s chin tilts upward, his eyes meeting Castiels’ with all of that bright ambition.

“Hey, you all right?”

Castiel nods shallowly, his tongue swiping out to wet his lips as he shifts against Dean as subtly as he can manage. Dean’s brows knit together when he catches Castiel in the lie.

“No you’re not, c’mere.”

A warm hand slides down Castiel’s stomach, coming to circle his leaking cock. It only takes two pumps of Dean’s hand for Castiel to experience what he’s so long wondered about, to topple over that ledge into complete ecstasy.

White stripes, thicker than Dean’s, spurt from his cock slowly, sliding down Dean’s hand with a viscosity not unlike thick soup. His breath hitches as he bucks skyward, fingers scratching at the leather seat beneath him. He doesn’t moan like Dean did, but little stars form in his vision from the absolute euphoria that hits him like a solid concrete wall.

And then he’s back in the bunker, the heavy weight of an arm flung over his waist.

Castiel twists below the surprising embrace, turning to find Dean’s eyes fluttering open, the beautiful green focusing on Castiel’s face.

“Cas?”

“I believe a good morning is in order.”

Dean’s brows shoot up his forehead, giving his face an almost comically surprised expression. His mouth quirks to one side, an unspoken question formed in the set of it. Castiel lets his eyes shift down Dean’s body; finding that much like in the dream Dean is bare from the waist up. He gives his own vessel a once over, curious as to how his body is naked without having any recollections of removing his clothes.

“Did we…”

“I don’t believe so, no.” Castiel shuts down any of Dean’s running thoughts before they can leave his lips. They couldn’t have had sex; that had just been a dream… right? His leg bumps against Dean’s, noticing the bareness of it, the brush of skin against skin at the contact.

“That was just a dream though.” Dean’s eyes snap to Castiel’s face with almost audible motion, the lids widening to reveal an expression tantamount to utter confusion and pensive curiosity. In the period of but a few seconds, Castiel observes Dean’s face darkening to a deep scarlet, those beautiful green eyes standing out in a sea of red.

“You mean… that was _you_ you?”

“… yes.”

Dean’s lips twitch in a hesitant smile, his eyes flitting away from Castiel’s once again. Calloused fingertips brush against the back of Castiel’s hand, followed by long, hard fingers entwining within his own. His eyes slide onto Dean’s, unspoken question being confirmed with the sly set of Dean’s features.

“Would you… Would you like to try it for real?”


End file.
